


Fanboy

by Pilferingstarlight



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: (mentions of previously listed characters they aren't actually in the story), Alternate Universe - Celebrity, Dan POV, First Meetings, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Humor, KickThePj - Freeform, Long One Shot, M/M, Non-youtuber Dan, Romance, Shane Dawson - Freeform, Tyler Oakley - Freeform, celebrity!Phil, fanboy!dan, joey graceffa - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-30
Updated: 2016-07-30
Packaged: 2018-07-28 07:22:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7630570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pilferingstarlight/pseuds/Pilferingstarlight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"When people envision the single most romantic night of their lives, they typically don’t imagine it starting in a convenience store. I certainly didn’t, and because I’m such a dorky fanboy, and because I spend a shameful amount of time reading Phil Lester/reader fanfiction, I always pictured it starting off in a coffeeshop, like a love at first sight kind of thing. Seriously, what is it with fanfiction and coffeeshops?!"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fanboy

When people envision the single most romantic night of their lives, they typically don’t imagine it starting in a convenience store. I certainly didn’t, and because I’m such a dorky fanboy, and because I spend a shameful amount of time reading Phil Lester/reader fanfiction, I always pictured it starting in a coffeeshop, like a love at first sight kind of thing. Seriously, what is it with fanfiction and coffeeshops? The only people I run into in coffeeshops are pretentious hipsters and rundown parents with snotty, whining, bratty little kids. But a convenience store? I never even could have guessed that would be where it would happen. Or who it would happen with. 

I guess I should start at the beginning. I can pin the source of all my problems to the day I let my little sister borrow my laptop. Usually, she was pretty good about closing out of all the tabs she’s opened and logging out, but that afternoon she forgot. Who could have possibly known my life would change forever because she forgot to close a tab? The tab was open to Youtube, with this nerdy looking guy with dark hair and blue eyes waving at the camera with this really goofy smile. Goofy, but kind of adorable. I was only fourteen, the guy was 20, and I wouldn’t admit it then but I had fallen head over heels in love with him. I watched the video, it was about something stupidly adorable that I can’t remember, then watched another, and then another. By the end of that evening I had watched 3 hours worth of his videos, done some prime stalking on all social media platforms, and become well versed in all things Amazingphil.

By the start of my freshman year I was a full blown Phil Lester fanboy, closeted in more ways than one. My life progressed through four years of sheer concentrated hell in it’s purest form, and he was there for me through it all. No matter how bad a day I’d had, no matter how many people had called me fag or however many times I’d contemplated suicide while walking through those narrow halls, he was always at the end of the day, waiting, like a light at the end of a tunnel. I never told anybody, mostly because Amazingphil’s fan base was made up largely of preteenage girls. Preteenage girls, and me, Dan Howell, a surly almost 20 year old still half stuck in his freshman emo phase. It’s just downright embarrassing. It’s kind of like those creepy 30 year old men obsessed with my little pony… only Phil is in no ways comparable to a pony, and I’m not a middle aged brony. The point is, nobody over 17 watched Amazingphil. Except for me. I was just about as involved as anybody could be in a fandom, without being directly involved. I read the fanfiction, as I said it was mostly Phil X Reader stuff, because he’s mostly a solo operation. Every so often there might be an occasional AmazingPhil/Sprinkleofglitter, AmazingPhil/Kickthepj or even more rarely they would pair Phil with one of the big youtubers. Zoella, Tyler Oakley, Joey Graceffa, I even suffered through a 950 word one shot about him and Shane Dawson. Let me tell you, _that_ was weird. But mostly, the fictional Phil that was dreamed up in the minds of emotionally unstable fangirls, and brought to life on a word document behind a computer screen was a Phil who fell in love with shy fangirls at meetups, who swept away oc’s with hints of Mary Sue-esque qualities in dystopian societies reflective of the Hunger Games or Divergent, and always saved the day with them in his arms. I never liked those fics much, and true, it was hard to really be immersed in the Phil/reader ones (most were about girls, not to mention terribly written.) But you can bet that once I found a decent fic it was bookmarked and saved on my phone, in a private browsing window I kept solely for Phil Lester fanfiction. 

And nobody suspected a thing! Not the people at school, not my followers on my secret fan blog on tumblr (yeah, I was THAT much of a nerd.) Not even my sister, who was possibly the only person I’ve ever met who loved Amazingphil more than I do. 

_“He’s just so wonderful, Dan.” She’d sigh, dangling upside down over the side of my bed._

_“Mhm,” I’d say, feigning disinterest and closing out of the Amazingphil tumblr tag tabs on my phone._

_“What should I wear to the meetup? Something not too boob-y, but at the same time I want him to notice my ass, you know? But I don’t want to come off as slutty.”_

_“He’s not coming here for another two months, Ashley. I’d say you have time to pick an outfit in that amount of time.” I said, biting my tongue about the fact that a guy like Phil wouldn’t even think about looking at a 16 year old fangirl’s ass._

_“Well, you told mom you’d take me out to see him, remember?”_

_“Yes.”_

_“You can wait in the car while I meet with him after the show.”_

_“Whatever.” The truth was, I myself had gotten tickets to that same exact show, on the opposite side of the theatre from my sister._

For the most part, Amazingphil was something I kept private, my own special little secret. He and I existed as a fantasy in my imagination, because where else would he single me out from 2 million+ subscribers, not to mention a boy four years younger than himself.

And that was my life, leading up to that frosty evening of October 19th, 2009. That evening where my simple life of being a first year uni student, living for the first time with a taste of freedom, my mind equally occupied with thoughts of Phil Lester and the horrors of law school, was thrown on it’s side. I was home for the weekend, my sister Ashley having been in the hospital needing some minor surgery, an appendectomy or something, and my parents needing help around the house. They were at the hospital waiting for her to get out of surgery, and were probably going to be waiting overnight, so I decided to run down to the store to get some things we needed around the house. 

It was around 10:00 at night. I remember because prior to that, I had somehow been convinced that nothing romantic could happen after 10 pm. Nights, in fanfiction, represented hot steamy sex written about by girls who were painfully obviously virgins. Mornings were reserved for the romance, where details about stolen glances, flirty smiles, the steam from mugs fogging glasses, goofy smiles over a homemade breakfast of pancakes, and sleepy good morning kisses, were worked in. All things I wanted, what I dreamed about, with Phil Lester. I had more than my fair share of dreams about him, both of the morning and nighttime variety.

Anyways, I was in this convenience store, a 24 hour one just a block or so from my childhood home, buying toothpaste, double a batteries, and a pint of Ben and Jerry’s cookie dough ice cream. I scrolled through a couple Amazingphil edits on tumblr before paying the tired looking cashier who didn’t even bother to say goodnight after, and went to leave. Me being the legendarily clumsy and antisocial potato that I am, I left keeping my tired eyes trained on the stained linoleum floor and coincidentally, walked right into someone, knocking them to the floor. Their stuff flew everywhere, as did my own, and the person was knocked straight on their back, their head hitting the linoleum floor with a solid thump. Ignoring the snickering from the cashier, I immediately dropped down to help the stranger up. I bet you can guess who it was. 

He looked nothing like he did on camera. His skin was a little warmer, a little more colorful, and his face more three dimensional. I could see freckles, grooves and lines that had been blurred away by the camera’s harsh lighting. He was tall, too. I knew he was tall, having memorized his height (6’2”) but I’d never quite had a grasp on just _how_ tall he was, even from a distance when I saw him onstage last summer, and now he was lying flat on his back at the base of my feet like a shadow.

I had just knocked Phil Lester to the ground. 

He winced, a hand went to the back of his head, and he groaned a little. This snapped me out of my fanboy-daze. 

“Oh my god,” I said, reaching out and helping him up. When he took my hand my heart skipped a beat. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry!”

“It’s fine, accidents happen.” Despite being in a large amount of pain, he managed to smile. We were standing now, and I still had his hand in mine, and I could see in his eyes that he knew who I was, a fan, and that there was no way I could hide it from him. 

“I’m Dan. Dan Howell.” 

“Phil. Amazingphil, but you already knew that.” 

“Yeah, I did…” I said, a little surprised he could pick me out as a fan so fast.

“Your face is familiar.” He said as I stooped down to collect his fallen purchases. My heart skipped another 20 beats and I tilted my head away from him, feeling giddy with some strange emotion that I’d never felt before, but that was straddled somewhere in between excitement and mortal peril. I always thought I’d be able to play it cool when I met my idol, but I found in his presence it was difficult to form coherent sentences. 

“Really? Oh, I… was at your show a couple months ago. In Reading.” 

“Of course, now I remember! Right side, five rows back from the front. Didn’t smile a lot. Man, I thought you hated me, then again, a lot of older brothers hate me…”

“Hate you? I don’t hate you.” I said, dizzy at the idea that Phil Lester, _the Phil Lester_ , had picked me out of a crowd. I was also a little upset that he thought I hated him, (a fan’s biggest fear) but I managed to keep my face straight as I handed him the things he’d dropped, which was a bottle of Ribena concentrate, and two boxes of Shreddies. “I’m a fan, actually. Well- not a fan, I’m not creepy I promise, I just really like your videos. Not really like, I just appreciate them, in a very non creepy way…”

He laughed, and it sounded different than it had in his videos. Warmer, more natural, kind of like Phil himself. “Don’t worry about it, I understand. I’m flattered.”

“I can’t believe you noticed me…”

“Well it wasn’t hard.” He said, smirking. I wanted to hit myself on the head. I was 6’3”, emo looking 20 year old guy. Obviously I was going to stand out in a crowd of teenage girls. 

“Yeah I guess.”

“So Dan, do you often go around knocking perfect strangers to the ground in convenience stores?”

“God, no! I-I wouldn’t say you’re a perfect stranger, I mean, you’re Amazingphil, you’re-”

“It’s alright, it’s alright! I’m just messing with you!”

“Oh.” I let my heart rate slow down a little bit. What do I do now? I always imagined that if I met Phil, I would cooly ask him for a selfie, maybe even his autograph. I also imagined we’d do other things, but I’ll spare you the details. But right now, I was so shaken up, all I could manage was a “Well it was nice meeting you. More than nice, I just… wow. It was amazing seeing you, really.” And before I could embarrass myself further, I gathered my purchases and left the convenience store. I was halfway down the block, simmering silently in my own embarrassment and regretting every choice I’d ever made in life, when Phil shouted “Wait!”

I stopped, in denial that he could possibly be talking to _me_ again. Lightning doesn’t strike twice. I listened, half curious and half terrified as the sound of shoes slapping pavement grew closer. 

“Hey,” He said. “You forgot this.” And he handed me a pack of spearmint gum. I was pretty much certain I hadn’t bought spearmint gum, but I thanked him and pocketed it anyway. Then he was just standing there, Phil Lester, and he had completely dropped any persona that he put up while filming or with fans, and he was so casual when he spoke, that I almost forgot who he was for a second. I knew he was waiting for me to say something back, but my socially awkward mind couldn’t possibly formulate an articulate answer. Finally, he broke the silence.

“So, I’m only passing through here on tour, and I don’t exactly know my way around. Do you know of any decent places where a couple of guys could grab a bite to eat at this late hour?”

I was too stunned to answer. For a moment, for just a fleeting moment Phil’s words had made it sound like he was asking me out on a date. 

“Uh… there’s this okayish place just up the road from here? They aren’t bad if you like chinese food and stuff like that.”

“Sounds good to me.” He said. I stood there, not knowing what to say back, drinking in the mere presence of Phil Lester. “Well come on, I don’t know my way around here. And Chinese food at 10 pm is just sad unless you’re with somebody.”

“Right.” I said, and forced my legs to come unglued from their rigid position. We started walking in the direction of the restaurant, a not so uncomfortable silence settling in between us. Actually, I was stressed out. I was holding my breath and putting too much concentration in walking, so I was sure I looked like some kind of clumsy three legged giraffe. I hoped Phil couldn’t see how much I was blushing in the translucent lighting. 

Finally we stopped, on a bridge only a short distance away from the Chinese joint. Actually, I could see it if I craned my neck, it’s bright neon sign winking to me endearingly. I don’t know why we stopped, it was as if something both came over us, and halted us halfway across the bridge. I leaned over and studied the dark sluggish water below. I knew what bridge this was. It was known by the locals as the kissing bridge, affectionately called so because of teenage couple’s tendency to make out on it. Actually, I had my first kiss on this bridge back in sophomore year right where Phil was standing. But, Phil couldn’t possibly know about this bridge or what it signified. We were lucky to be blissfully alone that night, not a horny teenager in sight. Phil leaned over and watched the water with me, and I knew I had to say something. 

“You know… they call this the kissing bridge.”

He looked up, an amused look playing in his eyes. “Oh, do they now?”

“Yeah.” Idiot idiot idiot! I sounded like a major idiot! But Phil smiled. 

“You know, I’ve never kissed a boy before.”

“Oh really? Me neither. But I’ve thought about it if we’re being honest.”

“I hadn’t really thought about it before tonight. If we’re being honest.” He added with a smirk. My heart started pounding. This couldn’t be real, this couldn’t be real! 

“Well, I don’t know where you’re going to find a boy at this late hour.” 

He placed his hand on top of mine. “I think there’s one standing right next to me.” 

He slid in closer. I was actually doing this! Pinch me, I must be dreaming! Only, my mind wouldn’t be so cruel as to indulge me in one of my greatest fantasies, kissing Phil Lester. Our lips had almost met when I pulled away. 

“What are we doing?” I asked, the feeling like the wind had been knocked out of me. 

“What do you mean?” He asked, his shoulders slumping a little. He looked so cool standing there in the glow of the streetlights, with his dorky hair and clothes and face that I wanted nothing more than to kiss and yet… something was still bothering me. 

“I barely know you.” I said. “I barely know you, and you’re four year older than me, plus you’re a major celebrity and you have so many other options, and did I mention I barely know you? Well, I feel like I know you, but you don’t know me and I feel like you should at least know me a little if you’re going to kiss me.” 

His shoulders slumped a little. “Hey, it’s alright. I get it. If you don’t want to kiss me, it’s fine. I’ve just been on the road on tour, and I’m tired and I barely know anybody, and then I see this cute boy at the convenience store and he’s so cute and he accidentally knocks me over and I think, pardon my pun, but I think “this is just so convenient.” But if you don’t want to, you don’t have to-”

I cut him off by pressing my lips against his. My eyes were screwed shut, but I felt him first shift in surprise, then relax into my lips for the short duration of the kiss. We pulled apart and he stared at me, those blue eyes flicking back and forth, searching mine before he grabbed my face and kissed me again. What was being kissed by Phil Lester like? Well, I realized, as I reached up and felt his hands against my face as he was kissing me, that before this, I’d never been properly kissed before. I had only dated two girls in my life, leading up to that kiss, and both relationships had started off with sloppy makeouts in what we thought were the epitomes of romantic places and ended in messy uncomfortable breakups. I’d kissed my first girlfriend Jenny in junior year of high school on a bench at a skatepark (even though neither of us skated.) and my second girlfriend Owena, a Russian exchange student, my freshman year of college on the beach at sunset. But I broke up with Jenny because I’d cheated on her with Evan on the junior class-wide trip to London and couldn’t live with myself. (Evan, by the way, was the first boy I ever made out with. He afterward swore me to secrecy, claimed he has just been “curious” and never spoke to me again.) Owena dumped me after two months because she thought I was strange. Then she went back to Russia. Nevertheless, I’ve made out a LOT. But I’d never kissed either of them, or Evan, like Phil was kissing me. It was a kiss full of innocence and curiosity that kept making me want to kiss him harder and harder and harder until…

He broke away. I leaned in after him, then stumbled a little. 

“Whoa.” He said. 

“Yeah. Whoa.” 

“You’re a really good kisser.” Oh my god. Phil Lester actually told me I was a good kisser! This was some sort of warped fanfiction-come-true fantasy that was playing out right before my eyes. I cleared my throat, tried to appear calm and collected. 

“Thanks, you too.”

I could go on in detail. I could give detailed recounts and descriptions about how we walked around the city some more and talked about each other and our lives, (though I felt like I already knew most of his.) But the truth is it would be pretty boring. After around two-ish we went back to my place and thank the lord my parents were still at the hospital. In a weird way, it felt like a date. It probably was a date. He told me later on he’d been trying to ask me out on a date, but didn’t know how. So it was a date! Only it was late at night and I was with a near perfect stranger who also happened to be a celebrity. He was unsurprisingly modest about his success, and mostly wanted to know things about me. I did learn how he _really_ felt about being internet famous, which was that it was so much pressure and that he had to project a certain image onto his fans. 

“It’s so hard sometimes.” He explained. It was well past four am and he leaned his head on my shoulder, sleepily.

“I get that.”

“No, it’s _so_ hard sometimes. I love my fans, I do, but sometimes I feel ruled by them. I have to think about every part of my life I show them. Everything I do in my videos, from the clothes I wear to the stuff in my room, my _room_ for christ’s sake, has to be thought out.”

“Man, that sucks.” I said softly, slightly ashamed because I was one of those fans. Did I really contribute to the hordes of fans who controlled his life and decisions?

“Don’t worry, I’m not blaming you.” He said, taking my hand in his. 

And you know what? At the end of that night I realized I was falling a little bit in love with someone I thought I’d loved for years. That Phil on the camera, that’s not the real Phil Lester. The Phil Lester I came to know in those long nighttime hours was someone so kind and modest and adorable that it almost melted my heart. I fell in love with him a little bit more when his blue eyes widened as the first rays of dawn’s light crept up over the city. He apologized repeatedly, both of us having lost track of the time. I insisted it was alright. Deep down I had been aware of every passing hour, but too enthralled by Phil’s mere presence to say anything about it. 

“I have to leave today.” He said, checking the time on his phone. I pretended not to notice the rows of missed call notifications and messages that had piled up as the night had drawn on. 

“Oh.” I said. I almost forgot he was still on tour. In all the time we spent talking, I never realized he would have to leave me soon. 

“I want to see you again, though. I want to see you more. I can’t promise it’ll be easy for us with the life I lead, but I like you a lot and I want to see where we could go from here.”

“I agree fully.” I said, hastily putting my contact information into his phone. Then I checked my own phone. Nothing, except for a notification to update something and two texts from my parents. One said that my sister was out of surgery and doing well, the other was a slightly more annoyed text, asking where I was. 

“Everything alright?” He asked. 

I was struck with an idea. “Actually, could you do one thing for me before you leave?”

…

“Hey, Ash, how you feeling?” I said in a quiet, sing-songy voice as I nudged the door open to her hospital room. She looked up at me, pouting slightly but mostly looking very tired. 

“Piece of shit, where were you last night? Mum and dad were worried sick and I was all groggy from the anesthetic. You said you’d tell me all the goofy things I said as I was coming out, you promised!”

“I know, I know, and I’m sorry. But I can make it up to you.” I signaled for Phil to come in the room. When she saw him her eyes grew huge, and she started to smooth down her messy hair and hospital gown. “Ashley, this is my friend Phil. He has to leave soon but wanted to say hello.”

“Holy… you’re Amazingphil!” She gasped.

He laughed. “Yeah, that’s me. And you’re Dan’s sister.”

After that I stepped out of the room to give them a little alone time. I’d spent all night with him, Ashley at least deserved 5 minutes. After a while, Phil came out of the room, smiling and bidding farewell to Ashley as he closed the door. 

“Thank you.” I said. He pinned me against the wall and kissed me softly. 

“I did it for you.” 

I watched him leave, my heart hearting a bit and my fingers wrapped around the gum wrapper in my pocket, on which he’d given me his number and instructions to call him later. I reentered Ashley’s room, suspicious about how much she saw. “So,” I said, as casually as I could muster. “Who’s the best brother on the planet?”

“You fucker.” She said conversationally, in a matched tone. 

“Excuse me?”

“You hooked up with Phil Lester?! You two are an item now?”

“What?! How… did he tell you?”

“Nah, you did, right just now.”

I leaned against the wall and ran my hands through my hair. “Shit…”

“Well don’t worry, I’m not going to tell anybody. I know Phil, I know what his life must be like. Honestly though, congrats. I always hoped I would be the one to hook up with Phil Lester but I never expected it woulda been you…”

After that, I went home. I drank half a cup of coffee, took a hot shower, then opened my laptop to an empty word document. Someday, somehow, I would tell Ashley, and the world, about how me and Phil Lester started dating. And this would be how. My phone buzzed by my lap.  
**Hey. I had a great time last night. Take the train out to my place in London next week?**  
**-P**  
  
I smiled. Then I thought for a minute, and began typing. 

“When people envision the single most romantic night of their lives, they typically don’t imagine it starting in a convenience store…”

**Author's Note:**

> I finally decided to write something happy! As always thanks for reading and let me know if you liked it <3


End file.
